If You'd Rather
by KMR
Summary: HBP Spoilers “You were going to ask me?” asked Ron, in a completely different voice. “Yes, said Hermione angrily. “But obviously if you’d rather I hooked up with McLaggen…” There was a pause.


Author's Comments: This fic started as short little drabbles and turned intoa piece by piece outline of HBP,that may develop into more.

Disclaimer: Everything is JKR's. Don't sue me. I own nothing.

* * *

"_You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice. _

"_Yes, said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I _hooked up with McLaggen_…" _

_There was a pause…_

"_No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quite voice. _

* * *

A smile here. A polite gesture there. Nothing important. One would never mark such things as progress. However, Hermione Granger had come to the realization that in situations concerning one Ronald Weasley, the slightest of changes could be deemed major progress.

Earlier that day, at breakfast, he had passed her the jam. Blackberry jam; her favorite. Upon entering Transfiguration, he had held back and let her enter the room before him, nodding ever so slightly and averting his eyes. And now, they were sitting in class, transfiguring, or in most cases, attempting to transfigure, canaries from thin air. The small yellow birds chirruped cheerfully over her head as she charmed them to fly circles high in the rafters.

* * *

"_I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind that everyone else does it!" _

"_You don't know what you're talking about!"_

"_Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "And Hermione snogged Vicktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

* * *

_

How drastically things changed by the next morning. Hermione had no idea what she had done to deserve the frostiness that met her in the Great Hall.

"Hey," she had greeted Harry and Ron, catching up to them.

"Morning, Hermione," Harry had replied, with a slightly uneasy lilt to his voice. Questioningly, Hermione glanced from Harry to Ron and back again.

"Ron?" She inquired, her face creasing in confusion.

The only response that met her worried expression was an icy glare. Ron sharply turned his head and stalked off in another direction.

Throughout the entire day, Hermione tried to decipher why Ron was behaving in such a rude and hurtful manner. Finally giving up and giving in, she let herself rise to the bait. The day ended in both parties fiercely provoking, piquing, and irritating each other.

Climbing the staircase to her dormitory Hermione finally allowed herself to frown and depress. What had happened?

* * *

Days had passed since the unsolved and, in Hermione's mind, unjustified, rowing had taken place between Ron and herself. Still, the two were not talking, although the condition had slowly disintegrated into a cold lack of acknowledgement.

Watching the Quidditch game had been far from the top of the list of what Hermione would have liked to do that day, yet she had come anyways. Perhaps because she was worried about what would happen to Ron while he was under the influence of the Felix Felicis.

At the end of the game, believing that the entire team would be in high spirits, she approached the changing rooms tentatively. Anxious to admonish Harry, yet cautious in regards to Ron. Perhaps he would be in a better mood? The affects of the potion were bound to boost his spirits, alongside the Quidditch victory. Would now be an appropriate time to attempt a reconciliation?

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Hermione entered the changing rooms to find Harry and Ron the sole occupants.

"I want a word with you, Harry. You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal." …Where had that come from? Sure, she had meant to badger Harry about that later, but her first priority was to square away herself and Ron.

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron. The words stung, and Hermione suddenly felt foolish for even thinking of peace between them.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. Normally she would simply be unapproving of Harry's actions, but Ron's uncouth attitude pressed her further. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!" Anyways, how Harry could think he could convince her that he hadn't spiked Ron's drink, she had no idea.

"I didn't put it in! I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." Hermione blinked and immediately felt much smaller in the near-empty changing rooms. How could Harry have known that would have worked?

Turning to Ron, Harry added, "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all by yourself."

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice? … I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?" Ron questioned.

"No," said Harry.

A few moments passed in which Ron seemed too astounded to take the concept in, however Ron then whipped his head around to face Hermione.

"_You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!_" He said, imitating Hermione in a ghoulish sort of way. "See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't- Ron, _you_ thought you'd been given it too!" Hermione faltered over her words. When had she _ever_ said that he couldn't save goals? And how on earth could he accuse her of something he himself had done?

Before she could get another word out, Ron turned away and strode out of the changing room, broomstick on shoulder, and a slight self-satisfied swagger present in his gait.

"Er," said Harry awkwardly, "shall… shall we go up to the party then?"

"You go!" replied Hermione, desperately trying to hold in the tears. "I'm _sick_ of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done…" she finished hastily, rushing out of the changing rooms.

* * *

Hermione sniffled in the empty and unused classroom on the second floor, promising herself that she would stop her emotional breakdown that instant. She had managed to get through months with Ron being mad at her in third year, why couldn't she handle one rude remark now? _Because things are much different than they were in third year…_ a voice challenged in the back of her head. At least then she knew why he was mad, she conceded. But now, the source of Ron's irrational anger was completely unknown, at least to herself.

She stood and attempted to brush off the dust that had collected on her clothes from entering the long-forgotten classroom. Pulling down her shirt, she crossed the classroom with resolve. If Ron was going to be inexplicably rude to her, so be it. However, she for one would act like an adult, in polite formality, until the time came when they could resolve their differences (whatever they might be).

Walking down the hallways towards the Fat Lady portrait, Hermione slowly accepted the situation placed before her. Ron was mad at her, yes. However, she knew that she had gotten through worse things with him. Of course, it didn't help that just a week ago their relationship had been soaring in the right direction, but she would make it. Things would smooth out and maybe sooner or later they could pick up where they left off; a step closer to…


End file.
